“you are neither in Canada nor France, but on board the Nautilus, at fifty yards beneath the surface of the sea.”
“We must credit Monsieur if he says so,” replied Conseil, “but this salon is enough to astonish even a Fleming like myself.”
“Give rein to your astonishment then, and look around you; for, for a classifier of your reputation, there is something to do here.”
I had not much need to encourage Conseil. The brave lad, bent over the cases, was already muttering “Class Gasteropods, family Buccinoids, genus Porcelain, species Cypræa Madagascariensis,” &c.
Meantime, Ned Land, who was not much of a naturalist, was making inquiries respecting my interview with Captain Nemo. Had I found out who he was, whence he came, whither he was going, to what depths he was dragging us? and a thousand questions to which I had no time to reply.
I told him all I knew, or rather all that I did not know, on those points, and inquired what he had heard or seen on his side.
“Nothing at all,” he replied; “not even the crew. I suppose they are not electric by any chance, are they, sir?”
“Electric!” I exclaimed.
“Faith, I am inclined to think so. But you, M. Aronnax,” asked he, who had his own idea, “how many men do you think there are on board? Ten—twenty—fifty—a hundred?”
“I do not know how to answer, Ned,” I said.
“Moreover, take my advice, give up the idea of yours
